


The Safest Place

by tsukibeam



Series: The Safest Place [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, comforting hugs, first apartment jitters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 13:50:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13482795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukibeam/pseuds/tsukibeam
Summary: Noctis should feel excited about getting an apartment and having independence. And he is…until Regis sees him off, handing him the apartment keys on the steps of the Citadel.For someone whose safe place is his dad’s car, the one place where he and Regis can be alone together, having a new apartment is an adjustment to say the least.





	The Safest Place

**Author's Note:**

> _To my late father, whose birthday it is tomorrow, and who is probably rolling in his grave at my online activities._

Some of Noctis’s first memories are of him and his dad, just the two of them.

It’s always been that way, from his first words to the first time he toddled across the room. Even the first time Noctis spat out a spoonful of chilli.

Of course, there’d always been approximately one hundred other people around them--staff, council members, guards--but in the middle of it all was Noctis and Regis. Not because they were King and Prince, not in Noctis’s eyes. It never felt like that, not when Regis would take him for a drive in the Regalia. Just the two of them.

Noctis remembers those times--the surging wind through the open windows, how it stirred up the spicy citrus and woodsy smell from his dad’s cologne. The hum of the engine would lull him into relaxation and he’d stare out the window, watching the city’s street lights flash by in warm bursts, while his mind recreated Regis’s adventures.

 

* * *

 

It’s not just the two of them when Noctis turns sixteen and he’s given the keys to his first apartment. Gladio and Ignis stand behind him, broad shouldered shadows that chafe against Noctis’s newfound sense of independence.

Before him stands Regis, austere in the robes of his station, the court a hive of pride on the steps of the Citadel.

It’s gotten easier, throughout the years, to ignore everyone. It’s second nature to share sentimental moments with his dad while pretending they’re not being discreetly watched.

It’s weird, this ceremony; it makes him shuffle his feet, look at the ground, and bite his lip. He’s been in ceremonies before, like when he linked his magic to Gladio and Ignis, but something about this…

He should be excited. Everyone has told him so--he _knows_ he should be. What sixteen year old gets their own apartment? Absolute freedom and space to binge the latest Kings of Lore game into the small hours of the night; no maids to accidentally barge in during _inconvenient_ times. He also won’t have to worry about sneaking out if he want to catch a meteor shower. It’s a teen’s dream.

He should be excited, he _was_ excited until about five minutes ago, when Regis limped down the lustrous Citadel steps and smiled at Noctis. It wasn’t like a smile from when he was younger, where the corners of his eyes wrinkled and matched up with the little sparkle in his eyes as he teased Noctis for pushing aside his vegetables.

Regis’s eyes wrinkle in the corners, yes, but he’s also blinking a lot. His smile is tight and Noctis feels his throat become thick and his stomach hollow. His own smile won’t come, no matter how many times he swallows or tells himself it’s fine, he won’t be going far, it’s just an _apartment_.

“My son,” Regis says, voice tender. He clasps Noctis’s shoulder and the strong grip is a strange comfort. “Today you begin a new chapter towards being a man.”

“Please don’t say anything about the line of Lucis,” Noctis interrupts, because that’s all that happens these days and it just sort of makes passing all these sombre councilors in the corridors kind of weird.

Noctis can practically _feel_ Ignis rolling his eyes but the quip earns him a chuckle from his dad which fills some of the empty feeling swallowing him up inside.

“You walk forward into a new home,” Regis presses on. “But remember, you always have a place here, should you wish it.”

The sun catches on the polish of the key, unmarred and still sharp from its cutting, as Regis holds it out toward Noctis. It dangles from a dull green leather strap and Noctis takes it, hesitating, swallowing, ignoring the internal hollowness tingling inside him again.

The key is light, not really worthy of the feelings blooming inside him, and when he turns the leather strap over, he scowls. “Kenny Crow? Really?”

Regis’s voice is fond, amused, as he says, “Ignis said you like their food.”

“I like their game machines,” Noctis corrects, but he gives the strap a brave swirl around his finger, rising it in thanks before pocketing it.

It feels final, then. Like he should go and hurry up and start his new chapter. Without his dad. All these years, just the two of them, and now he’s...Noctis bites his lip and nods. Tries to muster a smile for his dad but he doesn’t try long because it feels wobbly. So he just settles on turning for the car instead.

He should be excited and he _is_. He’s picked out his furniture and labeled all his boxes himself. He decided weeks ago where he wants his couch, what kinds of blankets he wants to pile on it. It’s a dream coming to realization.

Once in the car, Noctis looks back at his dad standing solitary on the steps. He wants to tell the driver to stop the car when it starts forward, wants to rush up and stop his dad from looking so small and forlorn, wants the feeling of utter _wrongness_ to stop spreading out to his limbs and heart.

 

* * *

 

Privacy is a new concept for Noctis. He can feel it the moment he steps into the apartment. It’s quiet. No breathing from guards standing at attention, no rustling from a maid tidying up.

Every piece of furniture is new, waiting for Noctis to break it in with a few afternoon naps or Ignis’s cooking. Some of it is familiar, like his comic books or the neat stack of reports already sitting on the dining room table, but the rest…

Noctis stands in the center of the room, moving his eyes slowly from the entertainment center to the couch and then the kitchen. The Citadel is clean, immaculately so thanks to the dedicated maids. This is...sterile. Noctis can still smell the cleaning products, concentrated and overwhelming.

The door opens behind Noctis and for a moment, he expects spiced citrus. This is his home now, he should smell that familiar warmth but--it’s only Ignis carrying a bag of groceries for their dinner. Gladio follows, coming up to Noctis and slapping his shoulder, right where Regis’s hand had gripped only twenty minutes before.

It’s their mini celebration and Noctis finds himself smiling, grateful for this distraction filling up the empty spaces of the apartment. It’s fine. It’s exciting. He’s on his own now. It’s fine.

 

* * *

 

Noctis can’t settle. Ignis and Gladio had left hours ago, with lighthearted warnings not to stay up all night on his game consoles. The door had shut with an irreversible click. Their footsteps faded down the corridor to the elevator and then it was...quiet.

And Noctis had tried, he had tried filling the apartment with the sounds of gaming but when his characters died one too many times, he eventually switched to a movie until he realized he had no idea what was happening.

His living room, somehow, was larger than the throne room, and he was smaller than his father’s ring within it. The sound of his own breathing was too loud. The couch was too stiff. Ignis’s dinner, though delicious, was still undercut by that sharp overly clean smell.

Noctis lay in his bed now, on his side, turned toward the window. The building is too high to really see the lights of the city. He only sees the darkness of night but if he closes his eyes, he can see the flashing of streetlights. Can feel the smooth leather of the Regalia’s seats.

Can almost hear the rich tenor of his dad’s voice recalling one adventure or another. Almost...but not quite.

And somewhere between the engulfing empty feeling in and around him, letting his mind wander, and that bullshit fresh clean whatever scent, Noctis becomes aware that there are actual, real tears pooling in his eyes.

It’s so dumb. It’s not like he even had his dad too himself all the time. Their Citadel chambers are on different floors, on opposite ends of the residential wings. His dad’s always in meetings, as the King of the goddamn country is expected to be. It’s lucky if he’s able to have dinner with Noctis more than once a week. Fishing trips and car rides are a thing of the past.

But Regis is still his _dad_ and his dad and home are sort of a package deal, just like Ignis and Gladio are. At least when Ignis moved out of the Citadel, Noctis still had the comfort of knowing his dad was an elevator ride away.

So yeah, it’s dumb, and when Noctis scrubs at his wet eyes, tries to knock away the tightness in his chest with a few deep breaths, he doesn’t feel any better.

He needs to fill the silence, needs something familiar, needs to tell Ignis to get a new cleaning agent, needs--his dad.

This, worse of all, feels the dumbest. This has his face crumbling, his body curling together, and then he’s reaching for his phone.

It takes an eternity for his dad to answer--or is it only seconds? Noctis can’t tell, can only feel relief when Regis’s voice fills his ear with what sounds like surprised concern and it’s like a balm to all this stupidity.

“Dad,” Noctis’s own voice comes out rough, and he coughs to clear it, but it sounds wet, like a give away.

“Noctis, what’s wrong?”

The same sort of hesitation Noctis had when he reached for his apartment key flares. He just woke up the King of Lucis, probably. For being homesick on his first night away. For crying in his bed like he’s eight years old again. It’s shameful, isn’t it? So much for being a man…

“It’s nothing, Dad,” Noctis tries but the tightness won’t go away and...and, well he has him on the phone anyway. “I just...Dad. I…”

His fragile resolve crumbles and he can’t make himself say the words because he’s sixteen, he shouldn’t need his dad anymore.

“Noctis, son,” Regis says and there’s a touch of sorrow in his voice that makes Noctis bite his lip. “I miss you, too. It will be okay. The first night is always the hardest.”

Coming from Regis, it sounds like an absolute fact and Noctis blinks and says, “For you, too?”

“For everyone.” Regis pauses, and Noctis hears something rustling and he imagines his dad sitting up in his own bed. “Shall I tell you about when I moved into my first apartment?”

Noctis nods and then realizes his dad can’t see but all he can manage is a strange sort of noise through the stubborn stone in his throat. Regis takes it as a confirmation though and starts speaking. And Noctis closes his eyes and suddenly he’s back--he’s in his dad’s car, the leather sticking to his legs in the summer heat, and the engine and his dad’s voice lull him to relaxation.

 

* * *

 

Noctis doesn’t remember falling asleep but it must have happened because the next time he opens his eyes, the sun is streaming through his windows. It takes a while for his fuzzy, sleepy brain to catch up on where he is but when it does, an embarrassed sort of heat rushes through him.

There’s a hard lump digging into his neck and he pulls it out--his phone. And--there’s a ringing coming from outside his bedroom, like a...doorbell. Noctis blinks, long and hard, rubs at his crusty eyes, and then shuffles out of bed.

He’s absolutely not in any presentable state to take on any visitors but that doesn’t stop him from swinging the door open. He freezes. Blinks about a hundred more times because he’s gotta still be dreaming, right?

King Regis isn’t actually standing in his doorway wearing a black sweater and jeans, looking like an actual, real _dad_ , was he?

“Good morning, son,” Regis says with a smile that wrinkles at his eyes and brings out the sparkle in them. “Did you sleep well?”

Noctis must look pathetic when he smiles back, shaky and glassy eyed, but he doesn’t really give a shit. Instead he surges forward, arms out, and his dad catches him and envelopes him with a spicy citrus and woodsy scent that Noctis breathes in deeply.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @tskukibeamfics!


End file.
